He's my son, not that it matters
by TartanPhoenix
Summary: When it came down to the brass tacks, she would always be his mother. Too bad that it didn't seem to matter much.


A/N: So, it's been awhile, and I had a very large glass of wine. That apparently means that my disgust for OUAT script writing comes to the fore. I ship SQ, I enjoy them together, and I think their characters balance each out rather well. But, I will never be ok with how Henry's adoption and relationship with Regina was handled, and Emma's behavior as to the same. The very fact that Henry being removed from Regina's care was never truly touched on, that she was portrayed as expendable, and that this was not only acceptable, but justified and noble, is ridiculous. So, the alcohol produced this. Hopefully it isn't too big of a disaster.

* * *

><p>Regina closed her eyes, letting the weight hold them shut for only a breath, anymore was simply too long this soon. As they pulled open once more, she stepped back, skimming past the blonde hair just behind her, shutting the door with barely a sound. Her son was home, for one night at least. The door shimmered briefly; more than a snuffle and she would know.<p>

Two sets of steps echoed down the hall, muffled by the carpet runner. More clicks, a squeaky hinge needing oil, and then silence. Genuine silence for the first time since leaving for Neverland. " I never thought I'd be so damn glad to see your office." So much for silence.

"Indeed. So glad to be of service." Regina strode forward, brushed a stray lock of hair behind an ear. Her hand shook slightly as she reached out and upturned a decanter. Something dark, she couldn't seem to remember what, trickled into her glass. It didn't matter much; it tasted like ash anyway.

"I know he's ok, I know he's upstairs, safe, but it's taking everything I've got not to sleep at his feet." Emma shuffled around in her seat, picking at a loose cuticle. She had been at it for days, waiting for it clot before picking at it all over again. "It really makes you think, doesn't it?"

"And that means what, exactly, Ms. Swan? What about my son being kidnapped, virtually tortured, and used as a battery makes you so very introspective?" She knew where this was going, and she truly was uninterested in the trip. Regina waved her hand, cutting off her own question. "You know, I'm actually not interested. In fact, at the moment, there is nothing I could care about less. I won't ask you to leave, but I would prefer you simply find an empty bedroom and remove yourself there."

Emma popped up, her heels clipping the chair leg, knocking it back a few inches. "Look, I get you don't want to talk ab—"

"Don't. Just, don't. Go to bed, Ms. Swan, before I rethink my generosity and send you back to the two idiots that spawned you."

Curls bounced and Emma stepped forward, fingers itching to do something, anything. They curled up instead, cutting into soft flesh. "We kissed, Regina. You may not want to admit it now, but we did. You didn't push me away, you didn't fireball me, you kissed me back, and we can't just sit back and pretend otherwise!"

The base of her tumbler cracked as Regina slammed it down on the sideboard; whatever she was drinking sloshing over the side, staining the cuff of her shirt. Just one more thing ruined, tainted. "We sure as hell can! And we will, given that it's never happening again."

"Look, you annoy the hell out of me, Your Majesty. You're arrogant, condescending, don't look at me like that, I do know words not found in Dr. Seuss, and I've eaten day old fish that had better interpersonal skills than you. But I don't care; I like you anyway. We could actually be something if you'd just stop being so damn stubborn and admit that you felt it too." Emma threw her hands up, stalking forward. They were nose to nose, and she could actually count the gold flakes that filled Regina's iris. She could taste the whisky on Regina's breath.

"I'm in love with you."

And there was blessed silence.

Regina stepped away from the sideboard, skimming past Emma on her way to the chaise before practically falling onto it. She managed to make it look intentional, somehow. Her feet tucked primly, one behind the other, resting to the side, knees angled properly, as any lady would do. She was utter composure. If only.

At least it shut Emma up, if the slack-jawed stare of disbelief was anything to go by.

"I love you. Wholly, unquestionably, utterly I am in love with you. There is no question, no doubt. So do not stand there and tell me what I do and do not feel, Ms. Swan. I won't allow it."

At the sharp tone, Emma jolted forward. "Then why—"

"For the sheer fact alone that I cannot fathom a time where I will ever forgive you enough to trust you. I want to, so very badly, but you so thoroughly scorched the earth that even Death was impressed. I haven't seen such an utter act of destruction since your pig of a mother ate an entire pie in one sitting." She put up a hand, her chipped manicure seemingly restored thanks to the low lighting. "Answer me this, Sheriff. Have you ever, from the moment you arrived in my town, thought Henry was in any danger from me? Any actual, genuine danger?"

"I—"

"Yes or no, Ms. Swan. Did you ever think Henry was in danger from me?"

"No, of course not! But you're—"

Another hand waived the qualification away.

"Did you ever think that Henry was neglected or unloved?"

Emma looked down at her boots, toeing at a loose thread, but she wouldn't be deterred. "Henry thought—"

"Henry is a ten year old boy, with a pompous, self-righteous attitude that he inherited from your parents, a mean steak he learned from me, and an inability to see what he doesn't wish to, as most children do. I'm asking about you, Emma. Did you ever believe that Henry was unloved or neglected by me?"

A grudging, "No," slipped passed worry-torn lips. Even after a shower, she still tasted a bit like swamp.

Regina leaned forward and sighed. "I thought not. And that just makes it all the worse."

She looked up at the blonde, and she could feel the pinpricks just behind her eyes. She cleared her throat while Emma just looked confused. She couldn't help but think idiot, nor could she stop her heart from lurching with a rather unfortunate affection.

"Ten years ago, you gave your baby up for adoption because you couldn't care for him. You did it to give him his best chance. I believe you, I do. But the fact remains that you gave him away, signed away all rights to him. And, for ten years, he was nothing more than a memory, and maybe even a regretted missed opportunity to you. And then he wasn't. He found you and brought you here, and you promised me I had nothing to worry about, nothing to fear from you. But you lied." Regina sighed and rubbed at the bridge of her nose.

"I knew what you were, what you were destined to be, so I tried to chase you away, tried to save what I had worked so hard for, but you refused to go. After insisting that you were no threat, you indulged my son's stories, indulged his disrespect and contempt for me, because it meant something to him, gave you something to be with him. You were his co-conspirator, his savior, his real mom, and I could be what he imaged me to be. I could be the Evil Queen who only ever took him in to harm others because I am so fundamentally incapable of love. You did that, no matter how true the story may have been in the end, you didn't know that, you didn't even believe, but you encouraged it anyway. I was wrong, but you were malicious."

Regina wiped away the sole tear that broke free, flicking it away angrily. "I have loved that boy from the moment I saw him. I taught him to walk; I taught him to talk and pee straight. I taught him to tie his shoes and scared away the demons under his bed. I was cried on, puked on, slept on, for ten years, and in the span of a few weeks, he forgot all of it, and you helped him. I taught hum right from wrong, and you used it against me."

Regina watched as Emma leaned back against the doorframe, her legs seeming to give out as she slid down into a heap. Her eyes were wide, and Regina could just make out the grinding of her jaw, as if she just couldn't figure out how to say what was obviously sitting on the tip of her tongue.

"And then the turnover, and the curse broke. And, I cannot even bring myself to be upset with you for that, since you loved him enough to break it. But even when you admit you didn't fear for him, you took my son away from me. You kept what was no longer yours. And, because of whom we are, and where, there was nothing I could really do. Force would cause me to lose him forever, and I would have spent the rest of my life fending off the pitchfork-wielding horde because your family doesn't give a damn about law unless it suits you.

You gave up any legal right to him, but suddenly he was your son, and I had to bear watching your father kick in my door, armed, and take him away from me, only to watch Henry walk away again when I bring you two back. You kidnapped my son, Emma. Whatever you may think of the current situation, you took a child from his legal guardian without approval. You kidnapped him, and I had to endure it. I had to accept your crime or risk losing the only that thing mattered forever. And I tried to be what he wanted, and was denied. And I tried, and was mocked and ridiculed while you looked me square in the eye, and said it wasn't a good idea for my son to come home for the night. I had to endure your mother, a woman whose very existence has done nothing but cause me pain, looked me in the eye and told me my son was gone. You had taken him away, out of town, out of the state, and that you weren't obligated to tell me.

You committed a felony, and there was nothing I could do, and that I was upset was treated with exasperation. You deemed it safer for my son to be in the presence of the man who created the curse, the man who is the very embodiment of evil, than his own mother."

Regina looked up and a flare of rage burned deep at the tears creeping down Emma's cheeks. She didn't get to be upset; she didn't get to cry, but that rage dissolved just as quickly as it came. It only left a lead weight behind. She hated when Emma cried.

"You took the only thing that I have left that matters, and you rubbed my face in it. The few times it seemed like I may get it back, something happened and you turned your back on me again, taking him with you. I don't know why I thought it could be different. Taking is all your family ever does. Your mother took Daniel, your Grandfather took my innocence, Henry took my heart, and now you've taken Henry."

Regina stood on shaky legs, and towered over Emma, fingers twitching to wipe away the tear tracks, to wrap the blonde up safe and warm. Instead she made her way to the door, fingers wrapping around the knob, rubbing the brass warm. "You lied, and you conspired, and you stole, not because you were afraid, but because you wanted what you had given up. I can't even quite fault you for that. I love you so very much despite it. But, I can never trust you, never believe you.

And, tomorrow, when you take my son away again and walk out my front door, I will have to remind myself that there's nothing I can do. Because, to do anything, is to lose Henry. But the greatest irony is that I've lost him already. I'm worth loving so long as I act as he desires, so long as I act as he believes you would. I can never truly be his mother again, because the Savior is always there to take him away again should I fail to placate him and his mood. I'm only worth loving if I behave as he thinks you do. I will love you, because I cannot help it, and I will tolerate you, because my son demands it. At the end of it all, I may even come to enjoy seeing you, with enough time. But, I will never want you, I will never have you. So, Savior, go back to your family tomorrow and rejoice. The young prince is safe and your retribution is complete. You have found the one way to make sure I will never be truly happy. You made it possible to love you."

"Regina, I—damn it, I—"

"Go to bed, Ms. Swan. Don't worry; I'm sure you'll feel better in the morning. I'm miserable; that usually seems to perk your family right up."

With that Regina turned the knob and, for once, was the person to do the leaving. She walked through the door, leaving a half-choked sob behind to sleep at the foot of a small twin bed. She would be his mother; there was nothing she could do. It would be enough.


End file.
